


I'll Stand By You

by AlyKat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Did I mention they're teenage boys in the 90's?, Excessive swearing (because teenage boys in the 90’s), Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, School Reunion, See if you can figure out which Stand By Me character the four guys are suppose to be, Stand By Me remake, Teenagers, joking use of homophobic language and slurs used freely between the friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1988778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/pseuds/AlyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing exciting ever happened in the town of Montrose, Iowa. Until the May of 1994 when the town's All-American sweetheart went missing. Four high school friends set out on a two day adventure in search of the missing star baseball player, and ended up having a trip that they would never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Ralkana for zipping through this for me Friday night! 
> 
> Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing except my laptop. It's mine. You can't have it. Everything else (basically) belongs to Marvel. Also, I have never been to Montrose or Keokuk, Iowa. And no, I didn't know the team name for Central Lee High School (where students from Montrose get shipped to) was the Hawks when I picked the place. I just did a search for towns under 1,000 people, Montrose came up and I went, "Woo! Score!" Saw it was close to two rivers and Keokuk (which holds a near and dear place because of C/C RP reasons) and went, "They're going to live in Montrose. This will be a thing." So yep, enjoy. 
> 
> Oh, I do own the graphic. Don't steal my graphic. I worked hard on it. Thank you.

[](http://s1378.photobucket.com/user/agent_alykat86/media/tumblr_n901myXJUt1rc7q3do1_1280_zpsmoz0jpsc.png.html)

 

* * *

 

_June, 2014._

 

Phil stared at his reflection in the mirror for a good long while. A black and yellow envelope sat on the dresser next to his hand, and he absently played with the corner of it while debating if he should really go or not. Glancing down, he reread the card for the third time that night.

_You’re invited to the Central Lee High School Reunion, class of 1994! Go Hawks!_

God, had it been twenty years already? It felt like twenty minutes.

Sighing heavily, he tucked the invitation into his suit pocket, readjusted his tie one more time, and stole a quick look at the framed photo on his dresser. Four teenaged boys stood in a line, arms across each other’s shoulders, hanging off one another and laughing brightly at the camera. They all looked like rejects from a slightly grungy version of “Saved By The Bell” and Phil had to groan at that thought. Okay, so maybe it really had been twenty years.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

It was a twenty-five minute drive, give or take, back to the old school and one that Phil was all too familiar taking. Not much had changed in twenty years. Oh, sure, the grounds had been improved, some new out buildings had been put in, and the school itself had been given a facelift and updated to keep up with the changes in technology, but the fields surrounding the school remained the same.

Music poured down the halls from the gym as Phil casually wandered and took in the trophies and sports pictures. He knew there weren’t any pictures of him in there, or his friends, but still, it was nice to look back on familiar faces every once in a while and smile. Moving down the line, he paused at one picture in particular. The face smiling out was fond, sweet even, with bright, clear blue eyes and a shy smile. A baseball bat rested over one shoulder and his blond hair was just barely peeking out from under the sides of his ball cap. Phil felt his chest tighten at the sight of it and looked down at the plague below it.

_Iowa State High School Baseball Tournament Champion_

_MVP Steven Rogers_

_1991, 1992, 1993_

Phil owed a lot to that kid, even if Rogers never knew it.

Sighing, he rounded the corner to the gym and swallowed thickly as he stepped up to the table, smiling to the couple sitting there handing out name tags. Like they really needed name tags? There’d only been fifty kids in their graduating class. It wasn’t that hard to remember people’s names. After all, he recognized the woman instantly. Her blond hair was swept up into a stylish but practical up-do and a dazzling smile lit her face.

“Carol Danvers,” Phil grinned, coming to a stop right in front of her.

“Phil? Phil Coulson.” Carol’s return grin was bright and wonderful as she stood up to move around the table to give him a tight hug. While they hadn’t exactly been friends in school, their fathers had both served in the Air Force for quite some time, so they had at least been civil towards each other with the common understanding of what it’d been like moving every few years growing up.

Stepping back out of the hug, Phil found he really wasn’t sure why they hadn’t been friends. Not that it mattered anymore, of course.

“You look good, Carol. What have you been doing?”

Phil watched in amazement as a faint blush rose up her cheeks before she straightened her shoulders and stood to her full height to answer.

“Joined the Air Force directly out of high school. Instead of a graduation party, I went to the recruiters and signed the papers. Been flying ever since.”

“Wow.” Phil let out an impressed whistle, nodding thoughtfully. “Well, glad that’s been working out for you.”

With a nod of her own, Carol moved back around the table and sat down. She reached out to pick up his name tag off the table, clearly ready to get back to her task and keep people moving. “Thanks, me too! Here ya go. Oh, and I think a couple of your old buddies are already inside.”

Glancing at the doors, Phil gave a small smile and nod of thanks before heading in. Streamers of black and yellow hung from four of the six basketball hoops, the two main hoops having been raised while not in use. The bleachers were pushed back to the wall and decorated in more streamers and balloons, while a large banner hung from the rafters welcoming the alumni “home”.

Ace of Base's “The Sign” blasted from the speakers, and it took every ounce of his being not to cringe. At least no one was dressed like it was 1994, even if there was that one group of girls with obnoxious side ponytails by the speakers that seemed to be having a bit too much fun reliving their youth by singing along.

He made his way farther into the gym, weaving through the tables until he got to the food and drinks, and silently prayed someone was still immature enough to spike the punch. Taking a cautious sip, Phil thanked the heavens. It was good to know some things never changed. He was just grabbing up a plate to make his way down the food line when he felt a body slam into his back, toppling him forward and sloshing his drink all over the floor.

“SHIT! It’s you! It’s really you! Phil!”

Phil didn’t have time to mourn his drink. He was being spun around and suddenly put face to face with a friend he hadn’t seen since graduation. Twenty years older and bald as a cue ball, but the grin and bright brown eyes were unmistakable. Especially since he'd been one of only two students of color in the whole damn school district when they'd been in school.

“Jasper? What happened to the hair?”

Laughing, Jasper took a step back and held his arms out at his sides. “You know of any other Latino kids who graduated from here? And hey! Mine’s by choice! What’s your excuse?”

“Bad genetics,” Phil grinned, shaking his head, “I seem to remember there being a black guy we used to--”

“That’s _African American_ , Cracker-Jack, and I’d expect _you_ to know better.”

Turning, Phil fought the wide smile that was working across his face. Standing tall and proud before him was the third member of his gang of friends, looking just as surly as ever. “Nick Fury. I really didn’t expect you to make it!”

“Yeah, well,” Nick groused as he pulled Phil in for a half hug and let go quickly, “being the boss sometimes has its advantages.”

Phil chuckled and nodded, turning back to get a new glass of punch while Jasper practically buzzed with excitement next to them.

“Man! This is great!” He bounced on his toes, looking around the old gym, rubbing his hands together like some kind of evil genius. “The old gang, back together again. You, me, Phil, Cli --wait, where’s Clint?”

Pausing with the glass just to his lips, Phil could feel the two pairs of eyes settle on him heavily, waiting for an answer. Slowly, he turned, shaking his head sadly but not saying a word. He watched as the light dimmed from Jasper’s eyes and Nick gave a quiet curse before looking away.

Jasper cleared his throat and took a breath before he continued. “Shit. Well...this is still great. Seeing you guys again. Fuck, remember the last time we were all together hanging out?”

A slow, fond smile spread across Phil’s mouth as he nodded. Oh yes, he remembered it all too well…

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would apologize for the gratuitous use of '90s songs throughout the rest of the fic...but, I ain't even sorry. Relax, it's really not that gratuitous, but there are a few lines from different ones scattered throughout: "What is Love?" by Haddaway, "Crazy" by Aerosmith, "All for You" by Sister Hazel, and the (essentially) title track "I'll Stand By You" by The Pretenders.

_“What is love?_   
_Baby don’t hurt me_   
_Don’t hurt me_   
_No more._

_What is love?_   
_Baby don’t hurt me_   
_Don’t hurt me_   
_No more.”_

“Man, _I’m_ gonna hurt you if you don’t turn that shit off and stop acting like a total jackass.”

“C’mon, Jaz, _Haddaway_ you’re not. Knock off the shit, you look fucking ridiculous.”

“Bite me. You’re both just jealous of my moves.”

It was late May, 1994 in Montrose, Iowa. A town with a population under a thousand people that seemed to be getting smaller every year. It sat almost directly on top of the Mississippi River in the southern part of the state, and nearly every spring, without fail, at least half the town would flood. Still, for all its faults, Phil Coulson was pretty sure there was nowhere else he would have wanted to be.

He’d be turning nineteen in July, and as he lay on the grassy field just outside of town, listening to his friends heckle and harass each other, he couldn’t help hope that the rest of his life would be as fun and carefree as it was when they were all together. It wasn’t possible, he knew that rationally, but still, he could hope.

Arms tucked under his head, Phil turned just enough to squint through the bright sunlight and watch as the other three began to roughhouse.

There was Jasper Sitwell, the youngest of their group but loyal as they came. Even if they did like to constantly give him a hard time and harass him for being half Latino, half white. Still, Phil had no problems with the kid. He was pretty stand up. Plus, his parents owned the only restaurant in town, and on days when they weren’t real busy, the four friends could go in and Mrs. Sitwell would make them all the best damn cheeseburgers they’d ever tasted. Remarkably, girls seemed to really like Jasper. Phil was never sure if it was because of his tawny skin, his dark brown eyes, or the fact that he had the same thick, nearly black mullet as Uncle Jesse from _Full House_.

The guy holding Jasper in a headlock was Nick Fury. He and his mom had caused quite a stir when they’d moved into town in the eighth grade, being the first African Americans to live in Montrose in probably forever. It had taken a while for Nick to warm up to everyone, and for his anger at being uprooted and dropped into the middle of nothing but cornfields to fade. When it did, Phil and his band of misfits had welcomed him into their group. He was a gruff and rough looking guy, constantly dressed like he was about to head out on some top secret military op. From his dark Ray-Bans to his black tank tops, cargo pants, and combat boots, he gave off the air of a guy on the edge, when really, out of the three of them, Nick was probably the one who had it together the most.

Phil barked out a laugh as the third member of their group grabbed Jasper’s boombox and lept to the top of the broken down and rusted VW Bug that sat rotting in the field. That was Clint Barton, Phil’s absolute best friend. Clint was the first friend Phil had made when he'd moved to Montrose after his dad died eight years ago. He was good looking, popular, and with just enough of a reputation to make him be the most sought after guy in school, and Phil was still amazed that he rarely ever had a girlfriend and would spend his time hanging out with them. Of course, part of Clint’s reputation was brought on by the fact he was also the youngest son of the town drunk. All the girls seemed to feel sorry for him and wanted to take care of him. Phil wanted them to piss off and stop making Clint even more self-conscious.

“C’mon, you fucktard! Gimme that back! Or I’ll call your freaky redhead girlfriend to come kick your ass!” Jasper scrambled up the front bumper of the Bug, his Reeboks slipping on the metal as he went.

Spinning out of reach and jumping easily from the roof, Clint rolled his eyes. “Dammit! She isn’t my girlfriend. Never has been, never will be. And she’d kick your ass for calling her that.”

“Yeah, but you’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?” Nick asked, casually cutting Clint off as he made a run for the other side of the car. He yanked the black stereo out of Clint's hands and turned his back to start flipping through stations himself.

“Fuck, no!”

“You slept with Morse though, right?”

Phil quirked a brow and stared at Jasper, convinced the seventeen year old had a death wish. Clint slowly turned, his face twisted up almost comically.

“Who fucking hasn’t?”

Biting back a laugh, Phil pushed himself up off the ground, tying his red plaid shirt around his waist after shaking all the dried grass off it. He knew Clint had never slept with Bobbi. For that matter, he knew Bobbi Morse wasn’t the school slut everyone seemed to think she was. She was always too busy with extracurriculars and college prep to bother sleeping around. Phil knew because he was in the same college prep courses as her and had asked one day.

The look of pure fury that flashed in her eyes just before she socked him in the stomach had been answer enough for him.

“I haven’t,” he said, moving to lean against the car, tossing the toothpick he’d been chewing on out into the grass.

Clint was by his side in an instant, shoulder knocking into his and an impish smirk playing on his face. “No shit you haven’t, Coulson. You’re gonna die a virgin, dude.”

“Fuck you,” Phil slammed his shoulder back into Clint, knocking him to the side, his return grin betraying the harsh words.

“Oooo, when and where, baby? I’ll bring the lube.” Clint’s voice was low and seductive, the smile on his face coy as he ducked his head to look up through dark lashes, his loose blond hair falling to hang in front of his face.

“Hey! You two homos done strokin’ each other’s dicks?” Nick called over the car, moving around the side as he turned the volume up on the radio. “They’re talkin’ ‘bout Rogers.”

Instantly all four teens were silent, leaning in close to hear the latest update.

 _”The search continues for Montrose teen, Steven Rogers who disappeared two weeks ago on the evening of Friday, May the 6th, after a home game against the Keokuk Chiefs. Police and officials have expanded their search farther into portions of Illinois and Missouri. Search and Rescue workers continue to comb the Mississippi River in case the teen slipped in and was unable to get back to shore. His family and Lee County Police ask if you have any information about his whereabouts to please call…_ ”

Nick turned the volume down and stared at the radio for a good long minute before breaking the silence.

“Shit’s jacked up.”

“Ya know,” Jasper started, sounding cautious, “I heard Joey Mitchell say he thought he’d seen Rogers get into a truck with Missouri plates after the game.”

Nick turned quickly, reaching up to the roof of the car to smack Jasper in the back of the head. “Shut the fuck up, Sitwell. Joey Mitchell’s full of shit.”

“No, he’s right.” Clint shook his head, straightening up and folding his arms over his chest. “I heard that too, but not from Mitchell. I heard it from Carol Danvers. Said he got into a truck with somebody. Some guy, she’d never seen him before. She saw him on the way home from dropping her boytoy off in Keokuk. Said he was walking down 218. Had to have been about midnight, one o’clock, somewhere in there.”

Phil’s brows knitted together as he reached up to sweep his dark brown bangs out from his eyes. The more his friends talked about it, the more his mind started to work, putting bits and pieces together into a makeshift puzzle of sorts. Snapping, he reached out, smacking Clint’s chest hard.

“Hey, didn’t Rogers have a best friend that moved to Missouri?”

Clint frowned, rubbing his chest over the place Phil had hit. “Maybe. I think. So what?”

“So, maybe that’s where he went. Hitched a ride and went down to see his buddy.”

Jasper slid from the car and moved to take his boombox back from Nick, cradling it close as he looked from friend to friend. “Hey, yeah! Now that you mention it, Reed Richards said last week how he’d gone down to Kahoka to visit relatives and he could have _sworn_ he’d seen Rogers at the truck stop outside Wayland. Just off the highway.”

“I’m with Barton on this,” Nick said, shaking his head and reaching up to readjust his sunglasses. “Big, fuckin’, ‘So what’? What the hell are we supposed to do about it? Let the cops handle it.”

“No, screw that, man! I say we go look for him!” Jasper’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree as excitement buzzed through him. “We could be heroes! I say, we go down to Wayland, check things out, and see if anyone down there’s seen him. If we find him, think about it! We’d be famous! Be on the news and everything.”

“Yeah, and how the hell you plan to get to Wayland? Walk?” Nick asked, a scowl forming on his face. "It ain't like any of us got a car."

Jasper shrugged. “Sure. Why not? It’s not that far, is it?”

All eyes turned to Phil, the resident map enthusiast of the group. Sighing, he mentally ran through routes in his head, before giving it a shake. “Nah. Twenty-five miles tops. Eighteen, maybe twenty, if we go as the crow flies. Probably a good seven or eight hour hike. Again, depending on which way we go.”

Jasper practically glowed as he grinned from ear to ear. “So? Whaddya’s say? You guys could say you’re staying at my place, I’ll tell my folks I’m stayin’ at Nick’s, and we could be back before anyone even notices.”

“Nah,” Phil shook his head again, pushing away from the car and stooping to pick his ball cap up out of the dirt. Spinning it around to sit backwards on his head, he shrugged. “I’ve gotta work tomorrow. You guys can go though.”

“Bullshit,” Clint grabbed Phil’s arm, yanking him back in towards the group. “We all go, or nobody goes. You’re the map guy, so you’re going whether you like it or not. We’ll just have to leave after you get done at work. What time do you get off?”

“Well, usually about eleven P.M. but it all depends on how tired my hand is--”

“Fucking faggot, what time do you get off _work_ ”

Grinning and suppressing a laugh, Phil shrugged. “It’ll be probably about three o’clock.”

Clint thought for a moment, mentally running the numbers in his head before giving a nod. “So if we leave at three, and don’t stop along the way, we should get to Wayland about ten or eleven?”

“Thereabouts, yeah. _If_ you don’t stop. Which you’d have to at some point, probably.”

“Maybe,” Nick moved to stand up straight again and dust the rust off the back of his shirt. “I say we do it. What the hell have we got to lose? God knows there’s nothin’ else for us to do around this town. Might as well.”

Looking his friends over, Phil wondered if they were really serious or not. On the one hand, it would be one hell of an adventure, on the other hand, it could wind them up in majorly hot water. Still, he felt a small thrill run through him at the thought. Nick was right, they didn’t have anything to lose. If they walked nonstop, they could camp out in Wayland, ask around, and if no one had seen Rogers then they could hike back home and be back before supper time. And it wasn’t like Phil had never done a long distance hike before.

“I dunno, guys. This could be a really big waste of time, ya know? I dunno if I really wanna--”

Phil hunched his shoulders and held his hands up in a mock surrender when a jumble of protests and taunts rose up, drowning out the rest of his token protest. Hey, someone had to be the one to do it.

Letting out a sigh, he shrugged away from Clint’s hold. “Aiight, aiight. I guess we’re going hiking tomorrow.”

Phil turned, starting off towards the edge of the field. “I gotta get home. Meet you guys back here around three? We’ll head out then,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder to his friends.

A chorus of goodbyes and ‘see ya tomorrow’s floated after him. Tossing a wave back at them, Phil trudged home, already planning out routes in his head and deciding what things he should take along with him. It was bound to be a fun adventure, there was no doubt about that, and probably the last one they’d get to have before going separate ways for college, but still he felt like it was going to be a wasted trip. They were the four outcasts of Montrose, no way they’d ever be considered heroes.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Back home, Phil bounded up the front porch steps and burst through the door. He’d just started up the stairs to his room when he heard the talking and familiar giggling from the kitchen. Slowly, he backtracked down into the hallway and around the corner, freezing when he saw his mom sitting at the table blushing and hiding her shy smile behind a cup of coffee. A man sitting across from her looked far too pleased with himself for having that effect on her.

Clearing his throat, Phil stepped into sight and stood to his full five-foot-nine-inches. Not exactly an impressive height, especially not when it was coupled with the fact he was still a bit on the scrawny side despite doing workouts with Clint and Nick everyday after school. And his tattered and torn jeans, his plaid shirt tied around his waist, and a black shirt sporting the Alien Workshop skateboard logo didn’t help him to appear anymore intimidating.

The two adults lifted their heads, Mrs. Coulson smiling brightly and moving to stand when she caught sight of her son. “Phillip. You’re home! Good! I want you to meet Alan Wilson.” She turned, the blush returning to her cheeks as she smiled back at the man moving to stand and come around the table.

Phil looked Alan over, from his towering height to his broad shoulders and military cropped hair. Phil decided instantly that he didn’t like him. Not at all.

“Alan, this is my son, Phillip, that I was telling you about.”

Hand extended, Alan gave a smile that Phil thought belonged on a shady used car salesman. Glancing at his mother, Phil sighed but politely shook the hand offered to him.

“Phil, it’s nice to meet you. Your mother was--”

“Phillip,”

“Excuse me?”

Phil lifted his head to meet Alan’s confused gaze and quirked an unimpressed brow. “My name’s Phillip. Only my friends call me Phil.”

Alan’s hand dropped as he cleared his throat awkwardly, Mrs. Coulson standing beside the table looking more than a bit embarrassed. “Phillip,” she hissed quietly, casting an apologetic glance at Alan.

“No, it’s alright, Judy.” Alan waved the silent apology off as Phil slipped around him and made his way to the fridge. “You were right, he is a lot like his dad.”

Stopping dead in his tracks, Phil stared into the refrigerator for a long, silent moment before peeking over the top of the door. Without a word, he glanced from Alan back to his mom, his features set in the blandest expression possible, waiting for an explanation. When his mother sighed and shook her head, he closed the door and took a step, arms folded over his chest.

“Alan is an old friend of your father’s. They grew up together,” she started, glancing back to Alan before looking at Phil again.

Nodding, Alan broke into another of his salesman grins and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Your dad and I were part of the last graduating class from Montrose High before it consolidated. Then he joined the Air Force, and I joined the Marines.”

Phil continued to watch them both, disinterest evident on his face, though inside he was fuming. He didn’t ask for the guy’s resume, he didn’t care. He just wanted him out of the house and not to come back. Lips pressed together in a tight, thin line, Phil turned his attention back to the fridge, grabbing a can of Crystal Pepsi before heading out of the kitchen without a word.

From behind him, he heard his mother shuffle around the chairs and start after him.

“Alan’s offered to take us out on his boat for the weekend. We can go after you get off work tomorrow,” she called.

“Can’t,” Phil answered back, already starting up the stairs and heading for his room. “I’m goin’ to Jasper’s once I’m off work. Gonna spend the night.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

A short time later, while he was sitting on his bed, U.S. History textbook open on his lap and music blasting from his headphones, the door to his bedroom opened. Glancing up, he sighed and hit stop on his Walkman, letting the headphones fall around his neck as his mom sat on the edge of his bed.

“Phillip…”

Letting out a groan and sigh, Phil dropped his head back against the wall behind him. “Mom, the guy’s a creep! I could tell just by looking at him!”

“Alan was one of your father’s closest friends growing up.”

“Yeah? Still doesn’t change the fact he’s probably the biggest creep in three counties.” Resigned to the changes he could sense coming, Phil frowned as he lifted his head and looked back at his mother. “What was he even doing here to begin with, Mom?”

The blush from before rose back up on Judy’s cheeks as she looked down, smoothing her hand over the quilt carefully folded over the end of Phil’s bed.

“He’s a police officer now, in Fort Madison. He was down here helping to investigate the missing boy -- ”

A half laugh burst out of Phil, drowning out his mother’s words. “A cop? Jesus, Mom! He’s supposed to be down here lookin’ for Steve, not sitting in our kitchen hitting on his ex-friend’s wife!”

“He wasn’t hitting on me! We were just catching up over coffee, and he--”

“Mom, he invited us out for a weekend on his boat! Again, when he should be looking for Steve.”

Judy shook her head, moving to stand and heading for Phil’s dresser. It’d been eight years since Phil’s dad had died and the wound was still deep and open for both of them. In a way, perhaps even more so for Phil.

They’d been living in northern California at the time, and the night before the accident his father, Jack, had promised to take Phil fishing the next day. When Phil woke up though, his dad was nowhere in sight. He’d been called to work -- a forest fire was getting out of hand, and Jack had gone in to help fly the helicopters that dropped fire retardant onto the flames. By nine o’clock that night, he still hadn’t returned home. At three o’clock the next morning, state troopers had knocked on their door to deliver the news. A tree had exploded due to the extreme heat of the fire, a limb had embedded in the fuselage. Jack had died instantly. It was the first promise he’d ever broken to his son.

Running her hand down the picture of Jack and Phil, Judy gave a sad smile as she shook her head. “Your father wouldn’t want us to keep going on like this, you know that, right? He’d want us to be happy.”

“Yeah, I know,” Phil said as he pushed his textbook off his lap and moved to stand. “But Mom, I really don’t think he meant be happy with a guy whose smile belongs more in a cheap car lot than on a cop. Besides, it’s still weird that he’s down here to help, and yet is asking you out on a date. Dude’s priorities are way wack.”

Judy quirked an amused brow. “‘Way wack’? Is that what those English classes you’re in are teaching you these days?”

Rolling his eyes good naturedly, Phil groaned in mock aggravation as he stooped to pick his backpack off the floor and dug around for a notebook and pencil. “ _Mooom..._ ” He flashed a smile back at her before flopping down on his bed and reaching up to swipe his bangs out of his eyes again.

Sensing the subject change, Judy moved back to sit on Phil’s bed, hanging his backpack off the post of his foot board. Looking back up at him, she patted his leg gently. “So. You’re going to Jasper’s tomorrow? What have you boys got planned?”

Phil shrugged as he settled himself again and took a long swig from his soda. He let out an impressive belch, followed by a burst of laughter as he dodged his mother’s hand coming out to swat at him, struggling out his apology. Getting himself back in control, Phil grabbed up his books again and gave another shrug.

“Me and the guys are gonna go hiking. Nothing major. Just chillin’ out.”

Judy’s back straightened at that, her head turning as she stared at him him disbelief. “I really wish you boys wouldn’t go hiking. Not after what happened to that Rogers boy.”

Rolling his eyes, Phil pulled his headphones back up over his ears and nodded, tapping the eraser of his pencil on his notebook impatiently. “Relax, Mom. I remember Boy Scouts. Safety in numbers and the buddy system. We’ll be fine.” Motioning down to his lap full of books, he looked back to her with raised eyebrows. “Now, me and U.S. History, on the other hand, probably could use some alone time to try and work out our differences so I don’t flunk the final and wind up not graduating.”

With a laugh and a nod, Judy pushed herself up off the bed and paused to press a kiss to Phil’s forehead before starting for the door. “Alright. You boys just be careful, okay? I love you.”

Smiling softly, Phil nodded. “Yeah. We will.”

Waiting until his door closed again, Phil hit play on his Walkman, opened his notebook and began scribbling down a list of provisions to stash away in his backpack for the following day.


	3. Chapter 3

Just after three the following afternoon, Phil hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders and strolled across town from the small grocery store to the field he and his friends had claimed as their official hang out spot. He could see the others milling about, their own backpacks sitting on the hood of the car as Clint rustled through them in search of something. It was nice, watching the way the sunlight played off his dark blond hair, causing the highlights to flash brightly as he stood up straight again and shook his head.

He could hear music playing and groaned at the thought of Jasper having brought his boombox with him. He already knew Jasper would be bitching about the weight of it within a half hour of walking and frankly, he didn’t want to listen to him. As he got closer though, he frowned when the black box was nowhere in sight. Phil had just stepped up to the edge of the field when the first song stopped. A new one was just getting started, and Clint turned to face him, a small grey device in hand and a wicked grin suddenly appearing on his face as he stalked towards Phil.

_”C’mere, baby,”_ Clint smirked, sliding up next to Phil and crooning out the lyrics as the song went along. _”You know you drive me up the wall, the way you make good on all those nasty tricks you pull.”_ His arms wrapping around Phil, Clint pressed himself in close, their faces no more than a few inches apart, a bright sparkle in his prismatic eyes before they darkened. His head dipped to look out from under his lashes, he swayed seductively with Phil in his arms, in time with the beat. _”Seems like we’re makin’ up more than we’re makin’ love...”_

Hands pressed flat against Clint’s chest, Phil gave a swift shove, putting space between them and rolling his eyes as he tried to get his heartbeat back in control. “Dude, get the fuck off me, man.”

Laughing and stumbling, Clint hit stop on the player and held his hands up in surrender, walking backwards towards their waiting friends. “Aww, c’mon, Phil! Everybody likes Aerosmith, don’t try to deny it. I’ve seen you rockin’ out to them.”

Phil shook his head. Shoving past him, he slammed his shoulder hard into Clint’s chest before taking the small grey tape player out of his hands, rolling it over to look at it properly.

“What the hell is this thing? _Talkboy_?”

“It’s my brother’s.” Jasper reached down from the roof of the car, yanking it out of Phil’s hand as he moved to stand. “I figured it’d be good to have some tunes with us so I swiped it on my way out the door.”

“Yeah, okay, but what is it?”

“ _Talkboy_ , man,” Nick answered, stepping up beside him, his olive green duffel hiked high up on his shoulders. “That tape recorder the kid from _Home Alone_ used to rent a sweet ass room at that swanky New York hotel.”

Recognition dawned on Phil as he gave a small nod and shrugged. Whatever. If Jasper wasn’t going to bitch about carrying it, then he wasn’t going to say no. Besides, it would be good to have some music to help make the walking go by faster. So long as Clint didn’t keep shimmying against his side like he had been. It was enough to drive Phil completely up the wall.

He’d admitted to himself months ago that he was in love with his best friend, and had been for years, but there was no way in Hell was he going to admit it to anyone else. It was one thing to joke and play gay with each other, it was another thing entirely to flat out step out of the dark, safe closet and say he wasn’t exactly playing around.

Clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, Phil shrugged and looked off down the road they’d be heading down. Thinking for a minute, he looked back to his friends.

“Aiight, so...we head straight down Middle Rd and it’s only about ten miles to Keokuk. We should be there around six. I figure we can get a quick bite to eat there, rest for a bit, and then it’s only another twelve or so to Wayland. Ten if we cut through the fields.”

Nick shook his head, reaching up to adjust his sunglasses again, scowling out from under them at Phil. “Man, how the hell you know so much?”

“Because,” Clint dropped his arm around Phil’s shoulder, his free hand slapping him across the chest, “Phil here is the Navigator. He can find anything, anywhere, so long as he’s got a map in front of him.”

Heat rose up the back of Phil’s neck as he ducked his head and carefully shrugged himself out of Clint’s hold. He’d become quite the expert at telling himself Clint was just a tactile guy since he rarely got the kind of good attention he craved and needed at home. Aside from Phil, Clint hadn’t had a real hug in more years than Phil cared to think about.

“Aiight, yeah.” He coughed and nodded, readjusted his backpack again, and turned to start off down the road heading out of town. “C’mon. We’re wasting daylight.”

Cling swung his own backpack over his shoulders, shoving Jasper’s shoulder as he slipped by. There was a bright and easy smile playing on his face as he strolled off to follow Phil.

“You heard the man, boys! March! Hup-to!” Giving a small spin and salute, he waited for Nick and Jasper to fall into line with him before starting whistling a tune anyone who had been in detention with him -- or had seen _The Breakfast Club_ \-- knew all too well.

~*~*~*~

The hike down to Keokuk wasn't nearly as bad as the boys had thought it would be. They spent the time joking around, shoving each other, and listening to whatever tapes Jasper had brought with him. Occasionally a car would go down the road, honking to get them into a single file line in order to drive by. Phil and Clint generally stayed in the lead, Jasper and Nick lagging behind a dozen or so feet every now and then.

When they finally reached the town, it was just after six, like Phil had figured it would be. Their hair was damp and sticking to their foreheads, and they had to look like a ragtag bunch. Clint and Phil were both wearing the torn jeans from the day before, Phil in a plain red T-shirt and blue flannel while Clint had a faded purple T-shirt, and his flannel long-sleeved shirt was tied around his waist. Jasper was lucky to be allowed into the small diner they’d found, and even then it was only after he stole Clint’s long sleeved shirt to toss on top of his overalls. For some reason, he’d decided going shirtless under them was the only way for them to be worn. Nick, well, it was hard to tell if he was still in the same clothes from the day before or not. All of his were black.

They ate quickly, carefully split the bill between them, and continued on their way once they were sure their bodies would let them. It only took another half hour or so before they reached the Des Moines River.

Looking out at the water for a long, silent while, Phil finally sighed and dropped his backpack off his shoulders. While the others shoved each other and complained about what to do next, he pulled his map out and laid it out on the ground, smoothing it down as he carefully scanned it.

A shadow fell over him at the same moment Clint dropped to lay on the grass next to his knee. “So, Taskmaster, what’s the verdict?”

Phil frowned as he glanced up at Nick and Jasper before looking back to Clint. With a shrug, he rested his index finger on the map. “Well, if we follow Valley Road, we can cut under 61 and go for another mile or so. There’s a field we can cut through here and it looks like the river narrows down to about one, maybe two hundred feet. We can cross there, I think.”

“What?” A squawk of dismay filled the air, drawing all eyes back to Jasper. His dark eyes wide and his face actually going pale as he stared down at the map. “Why can’t we just stick to the road?”

Clint rolled his eyes, pointing to the thick yellow line Phil had just trailed his finger over not two minutes before. He looked back up at Jasper, his eyebrows pushing up towards his hairline as his bangs fell in into his face again. “Because the bridge that crosses the river is the fucking highway, you dumbass. You wanna get blown off the bridge by a semi or something?”

“Well...no. But what about the train tracks? I thought I saw train tracks, we could--”

“Hey, fuck that shit, man.” Nick shook his head, arms folded over his chest as he looked over the brim of his sunglasses, face set sternly. “I’m not goin’ across no fuckin’ train tracks, trying to outrun a freight train like this is the fucking ‘Fugitive’. We’re goin’ Coulson’s way.”

Jasper gulped and glanced behind him at the slow moving water that led just a few hundred feet out to the Mississippi. Whimpering, he looked back to his friends, his eyes pleading. “I can’t swim.”

Standing, Phil folded the map up and tucked it into his back pocket, flipping his shirts over top of it. “Chill out, the river isn’t that fast. And from the look of the map, it curves like crazy, if you somehow manage to start to float away, you’ll literally hit land going around the curves.”

It wasn’t exactly reassuring, but it was the best he could do. With a frown, he reached out to clap Jasper’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before pulling away.

“I’ll find us the shallowest place to cross, I promise. There’s a whole bunch of silt and sand down here from last year’s flood, remember? There’s bound to be a nice, shallow, slow spot. We’re not going to let you drift out to the river.”

Swallowing hard again, Jasper finally nodded, his hands coming up to clutch the straps of his backpack tightly -- so tight that his knuckles turned a sickly yellow-white. It took a few more deep breaths before he was finally able to release his straps and loosen up enough to start walking again.

Clint glanced to Phil for a moment before stepping up next to Jasper, punching his shoulder and reaching to dig around in his backpack for the Talkboy again. “Hey, whatever, Jaz, it won’t be that bad. C’mon, turn the music on and let’s get our asses in gear, huh?” Zipping the backpack closed, Clint pressed the tape player to Jasper’s chest before giving him a shove to get walking.

Phil watched as Clint worked his magic. There was a way about him that Phil found irresistible. Despite his reputation, Clint was a peacemaker. A protector. He would do whatever he could to put his friends at ease and get them smiling again. Oh sure, he could be a total jackass like the rest of them, have a foul mood and a deadly glare if the teachers started pressing all the wrong buttons, but Phil knew there was a caring, compassionate and incredibly smart guy under all that. He’d spent nearly every day with Clint since they were nine and ten years old, and he knew what Clint was really like.

Taking the lead again, he grinned as Clint popped up at his side, his arm dropping down over Phil’s shoulder as he sang out at full force to the song. Laughing, Phil shook his head and swung his own arm up onto Clint’s shoulder, finally joining in on the singing.

_”It’s hard to say what it is I see in you_   
_Wonderin’ if I’ll always be with you_   
_But words can’t say and I can’t do_   
_Enough to prove_   
_It’s all for yoooooou…”_

~*~*~*~

Standing at the edge of the field, Phil reached up to wipe the sweat off his forehead, scrubbing his hands through his damp hair to get some kind of air movement through it again. The shortcut through the field hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d hoped. The terrain, lumpy and uneven and difficult to stomp across, left Jasper constantly complaining and Nick threatening to shove his boot down his throat if he didn’t shut up. When they reached the other side, they stood side by side at the slight ledge the water had carved out of the land and stared down.

It was probably a two foot drop down to the water, and Phil wasn’t really sure how deep it actually was. On the bright side, he had at least been right when he told Jasper it wasn’t a fast moving river. The water was only just barely moving, the laziest of lazy old rivers cutting through their state, in absolutely no hurry to get to its final destination. Across from them, a sandy bank waited, beckoning them to the other side.

At the end of the line up, Jasper let out a string of curses that would make a sailor on shore leave blush. Some of them were very colorful and not all of them were in English. Nick had to reach out and take hold of the back of his overalls to keep him from turning and heading back to the road.

“Huh-uh! No way, man! Peace out! I’ll take my risk with the bridge and highway!”

“Man, get your caramel ass back here.”

Phil sighed heavily as he looked downstream, following the curve of the bank and watching as the water got wider and wider. Looking upstream, he pressed his lips together in thought before giving Clint a nudge and stepping back behind the others. Not twenty feet from where they stood, the space between land and sand bank narrowed considerably. It was a steeper, direct drop off into the water, but instead of having to drag Jasper two hundred feet to the other side, it looked as if it were maybe only one hundred feet or so. Granted, it was also probably a hundred feet of wet silt that would suck their feet in and try to keep their shoes, but if they could get across there, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Exchanging glances, Clint finally gave a shrug and a nod.

“Might be our best bet,” he said quietly, glancing back over Phil’s shoulder at Nick and Jasper before looking back down at the water. “How deep do you think it is?”

Phil shrugged and sighed. “Dunno. Probably not very deep. Maybe only two feet?”

“That’s not bad.”

“Nah. I think we should be good crossing here.”

“Totally.”

Turning, Phil put his fingers to his lips, letting out a shrill whistle to get the others' attention before waving them over. By the time they stepped up to join them, Clint and Phil had sat themselves down on the edge. Clint glanced up and grinned as he swung his feet back and forth above the water.

“C’mon, Jaz. Set your ass down here. You can cross between me and Nick. Make sure you won’t drift off that way.”

“Shut up, Barton,” Jasper grumbled even as he did as he was told, Nick following to sit down on his other side. “...how deep is it?”

“Two feet, tops.” Clint kept his voice sounding steady and sure, shrugging it off like it was nothing. “Hardly deep enough to get your dick wet, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Phil rolled his lips between his teeth, forcing back a snort of laughter that was trying to work its way through him. A quick jab of a sharp elbow to his ribs had him coughing out the laugh, pretending to clear his throat before taking a deep breath. Glancing down the line, he met each of their eyes and nodded.

“Let’s do this.”

Together as one unit, the quartet pushed off from the ledge, propelling themselves out away from the hard mud wall and into the water. Flails and sputters, splashes and a chorus of curses filled the air as their heads went under, only to pop back up again and have the water come up to just under their armpits.

Getting his feet under him, Phil grabbed Clint for support, trying hard not to laugh at how ridiculous they all looked, hair soaking wet down in front of their faces and water trickling down off their noses and chins. Jasper continued to flail, tipping backwards pathetically as his feet kicked out frantically and if it weren’t for Clint and Nick both holding onto him, trying to get him upright again, he would have surely sunk to the bottom.

“Dammit, Coulson! I’m gonna kill you!” Nick fumed, finally getting his arms under Jasper and yanking him up again. “Sitwell! Put your fucking feet down, you jackass! You’re not gonna drown!”

Phil huffed and shook his head, spraying droplets of water every which way as he tried to flip his hair out of his face. The water was rancid with the stink of fish and mud, and it burned his eyes as it dripped down off his lashes. Grumbling under his breath, he started for the opposite shore. “My bad…”

Behind him, Clint let out a bright laugh and a whoop as he shrugged his backpack and overshirt off. Bundling them together, he overhead tossed them toward the sandy bank, the throw falling short. His backpack floated for a moment before sinking while his shirt stayed bubbled on the surface. Dunking himself back under the water again, he popped up on the other side of Nick and gave him a playful shove, knocking him into Jasper who flailed, windmilled his arms, and went down with a shriek. When both surfaced again, the panic had been replaced with laughter and with a war cry worthy of the movies, a game of Dunk broke out.

The laughter and splashing continued, mixed in with a colorful collection of swears and insults to each others' race and their mothers, as Phil sloshed his way to shore. He paused long enough to rescue Clint’s shirt and backpack from the river’s sludge before anything could get waterlogged. And God he didn’t even want to think about how bad his mom was going to kill him for ruining his brand new Nikes.

Just as he was starting up the silt, struggling against the wet suction with each step, a yell went up behind him.

“Hey Coulson!” Clint taunted, already starting to make his way towards him. “Where do you think _you’re_ going?”

“Yeah, Coulson! Where the hell are you going?” Jasper chimed in, his fears of drowning or floating out to the big river forgotten.

Phil looked back over his shoulder and shook his head, but kept moving. “C’mon, you guys. We gotta keep going.”

Clint smirked wickedly as he followed, half splashing and half swimming to catch up. “Oh hell no. You get your ass back here and get dunked like everyone else.”

“Fuck that.” Nick shoved Jasper ahead of him, keeping a tight hold to the back of his overalls, just in case. “I say tackle the motherfucker.”

“Yeah! Get him!”

“Get back here, Coulson!”

Phil shrugged his own backpack off just as a pair of arms caught him around the knees, toppling him into the silt. He struggled and squirmed, trying to get out from under Clint until Jasper fell across him on the other side and Nick on top of them both. Getting his arms under him, he tried to shove up only to have Jasper’s arm find its way around his throat to put him in a mock choke hold.

“Sleeper hold! Ha! Eat my shorts, Coulson!”

“Get the hell off me!”

Phil squirmed again, managing to wiggle himself enough to look back at Jasper, and froze. His eyes went wide as he caught sight of Jasper’s neck, then his arm. Fat, ugly and slimy, leeches clung to him like he were an all you can eat buffet.

“Shit! SHIT! Jasper! There’s...Shut up and listen! LEECHES!”

He felt it more than anything when Clint stopped laughing and started to push up and scramble to his feet. “He’s not kidding, Jaz! Fucking _leeches_!”

Immediately it was a mad, frantic scramble out of the water and to dry land. Bags were tossed as shirts were flung in every direction, hollers and yelps of surprise causing the birds resting nearby to squawk and take to the sky. It was a desperate struggle to yank the leeches off their arms and chests, spinning and smacking at their backs until they were helped to get the ones attached there off.

“Phil! Hold still!” Clint yanked two off the center of his back before stumbling and turning for Phil to return the favor.

Heart racing, Phil watched as Nick and Jasper helped each other until Nick froze.

“Fuck, fuck, _FUCK!_ ” Nick yanked his sagging cargo pants down, fingers scrabbling for the ones that had latched onto his legs. Suddenly, the panic sprang anew as they all stripped to their underwear, starting the whole process over.

When it was over, and with shaking limbs and ringing ears, the four stood staring wide-eyed at each other, panting out of fear. A small bubble of nervous laughter started to trickle through them as they looked back and forth, realizing how ridiculous they all looked standing there in the middle of a sand bank, pants around their ankles and soaking wet. The tension broke for a whole thirty seconds, until Phil stopped laughing.

The color draining from his face, he slowly blinked and looked to Clint before looking down. Throat suddenly very tight, he reached for the band of his boxers. He heard his name whispered next to him, but it sounded like it came through a tin can as he pulled the elastic back and looked down. What he saw brought tears to his eyes.

“Oh, Clint…” He whimpered out, looking up for support, “Oh shit, Clint…”

His voice was high-pitched, tight with fear as he shook his head.

Clint stared at him with his eyes wide, jaw slightly slack as he shifted from one foot to the other, glancing down and then back up again with only a small shake of his head.

“Oh shit, man…” Phil swallowed hard and looked back down again.

Gingerly, he reached down, his hand sliding between skin and wet fabric. The others stood nearby, watching intently and cringing in sympathy, waiting with bated breath as Phil gave another quiet, strangled whimper. Jasper looked to Nick, swallowing thickly before turning his attention back to Phil, Nick swore and flinched, his hand clutching the stem of his sunglasses tightly as he held them by his side, and Clint shifted and drew in a sharp breath as Phil’s hand began to come back up.

The streak of slick red across his hand was the first thing they saw, followed by the fat, limp, slug-like creature. It was slimy and shiny in the brightness of the afternoon sun. As it slipped from his fingers and landed with a soft _thwump_ in the sand, leaving a trail of blood across three of Phil’s knuckles, Jasper and Nick took half steps back. Jasper looked like he was on the verge of being sick.

Raising his hand up and lifting his head, Phil stared at the blood on his fingers, oblivious to his friends still watching silently. Colors began to dim, the edges of his vision fading out as he slowly swayed from side to side. As his hand dropped like it was made of lead, Phil’s eyes rolled backwards and the world disappeared into pitch blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only scene I blatantly stole from "Stand By Me" almost word for word, action for action, was the very end with the leeches. And Phil finding one down his boxers was definitely very much totally stolen from the movie. I regret nothing!!


	4. Chapter 4

Shadows and sounds slowly drifted back through the fog, struggling to be made sense of in his throbbing head. Distantly, he thought he felt someone slipping their arms under his, hoisting him up carefully while voices chattered at him through the tin cans again.

“Is he dead?”

“He’s not dead. He just hit his head…”

“But that could kill someone!”

“ _Jasper!_ He’s _not dead!_ Nick, grab his feet…”

His body was limp and heavy, and he thought he groaned when his legs were lifted off the ground and he was being jostled gently. Somewhere, he heard his name murmured softly, though he couldn’t pinpoint from where. He felt warm, though. Safe.

Slowly, the darkness washed over him again.

~*~*~*~*~

Phil groaned as he opened his eyes. The world was dark, save for the flickering yellow and orange glow to his left. There was a dull ache in his head as he moved to sit up, hand rubbing tentatively over the spot that hurt worst. Glancing towards the glow, he frowned at the sight of Nick and Jasper both laid out, sleeping soundly on the other side of the small fire pit that had been dug. Clint was nowhere in sight.

Frowning, he pushed himself upright, sitting crosslegged and blinking into the darkness surrounding their camp, letting his eyes try to adjust to look for Clint. A rustle of leaves to the right had him turning again, squinting.

“Clint?”

A figure stepped into the small circle of light, a fond smile on his face. Clint tugged and jostled his jeans a bit as he kept his eyes locked on Phil.

“Hey, you’re finally awake, huh?” He gently knocked his knee into Phil’s shoulder before sitting down next to him, picking up a stick to poke at the dwindling flames.

Phil gave a slight nod and swallowed thickly. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, or what had even really happened, except for the leeches. Oh, _God_ , the leeches. He groaned softly, bringing his hands up to his face, realizing he was once again dressed and that it was Clint’s flannel overshirt draped across him as a makeshift blanket.

Beside him, Clint chuckled softly.

“You managed to find the only big river rock on this entire bank when you went down,” He explained quietly, not wanting to wake the others. “Nick says you whacked your head pretty good, but no concussion. We’ve been keeping an eye on you, though, just in case.”

Peeking through his fingers, Phil watched as Clint huffed another soft laugh and stabbed at the fire again to keep it going.

“Jasper’s been poking at you with a pointed stick just to make sure you weren’t dead.”

“Oh.” Slowly, Phil lowered his hands and moved to sit a bit closer to Clint, mooching body heat off him. “Guess it’s fair after what we just went through with me at the lead--”

“Hey.” Clint turned quickly, jabbing Phil in the chest with his finger and giving him a stern look. “Going on this hike was _his_ whole idea. He’s the one who said we should just walk. He’s got no one to blame but himself, got it?”

Phil nodded slowly, entranced by Clint’s eyes and his seriousness. Sitting quietly for a moment, watching the way the fire light flickered and danced across Clint’s features, he swallowed hard and forced himself to look away. He turned his attention back to the fire, allowing his thoughts to wander aimlessly as he leaned into Clint’s side.

“Where’d you go?” he asked, turning his head just enough to see Clint turn his own head to look back at him. “I woke up, and they were asleep, but you weren’t here. I just wondered where you--”

“Oh,” Clint shrugged and shook his head, breaking a twig off the stick and tossing it into the fire. “Had to take a leak.”

“But you came from...did you piss in the river?”

Clint raised an eyebrow, his head tilted skeptically. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re really going to sound disgusted that I pissed in the river? You know what happens in that water? ‘Fish--”

“--make love in it!” they finished together, leaning into each other as they laughed and grinned.

The others didn’t understand their ability to quote movies and think themselves hilarious, especially when they were able to finish lines, entire scenes, at the same time. It was theirs, though. Their little shared quirk that came from years of living in each other’s back pocket. Like the way Clint would randomly serenade him or they’d sit a bit too close, be just a little too touchy-feely for most people’s comfort. It was just the way they were. The way they always had been, and Phil dreaded graduation and losing that. Clint was _his_ , and the thought of going off to different colleges and no longer having that connection was terrifying.

Their laughter coming under control, Phil sighed softly, squinting against the firelight as he reached up to hold his head again. God, what he’d give for some aspirin. Instead, strong, gentle fingers started working the muscles on the back of his neck, occasionally coming up to rub circles into the spot where spine met skull and back down again. It helped, but then, it always did.

“Hey.” Clint’s voice was quiet, reflective and warm in Phil’s ear.

“Hmm?”

“So, when we got you settled, I went to take a look around while Nick got a fire going, and we’re going to have to go through a bunch of shrubs and trees and old river debris to get back out to the fields.”

Phil gave a small nod, unconsciously leaning into Clint a little closer as his eyes fell shut. “That shouldn’t be too bad,” he murmured.

“It’s not. There’s a bunch of fields around so, I figure we can just follow the river for awhile until we come across a main road or something to head down?”

The gentle petting through his hair was calming and hypnotic, helping to soothe his headache away, but also causing his brain to be about twenty seconds too slow. He hummed again, giving another nod before he caught up.

“Uh...wait. No. We don’t have to follow the river. I’ll just look on the map and find the way back to the roads and--”

Clint cleared his throat softly, pulling his hand out of Phil’s hair and sitting up a bit straighter to poke at the fire. “Yeeeah...uhm...about that. Do you want the good news, or the bad news?”

Pushing himself to sit upright, Phil tilted his head questioningly at Clint. Something told him he wasn’t going to like this. With a thoroughly unimpressed look, he nodded. “Good news.”

“Good news, okay, well...” Clint set the stick down and leaned back on his elbows, watching the orange hot embers flicker up towards the stars and disappear from sight. “No one blames you or hates you for the water being deeper than we thought, or for the leeches. In fact, we’ve all been pretty concerned about you. If you didn’t wake up and stay awake by morning, Nick was gonna go back to Valley Road and flag down a car to call an ambulance.”

Phil nodded slowly, watching Clint carefully. “Okay. Thanks, I appreciate that. I think. What’s the bad news?”

“The bad news?”

“Yeah.”

“The _bad news_ ,” Clint paused to take a deep breath and drop back into the mostly grassy spot behind them, his arms tucked under his head for a makeshift pillow as he closed his eyes and smirked. “The bad news is, you lost the map somewhere in the river, and Jasper’s gonna kill you when he finds out about that in the morning.”

Groaning pathetically, Phil fell backwards onto his backpack-slash-pillow. Hiding his face in his hands, he whimpered softly and really wished he hadn’t woken up after all.

~*~*~*~*~

The quartet trekked on as the sun rose higher in the sky, the dew covered grass that had been soaking the cuffs of their jeans as they walked giving way to dirt paths and endless stretches of fields. They’d been following the river for what felt like lifetimes, especially with Jasper lagging behind, glaring daggers into the back of Phil’s head.

Clint hadn’t been wrong when he’d told Phil Jasper would try to kill him when they found out the map was washed away. They’d made it through the brush when Phil announced it was gone. Between one breath and the next, Jasper had been on him, tackling him into the dirt and rolling them across the ground while throwing blind punches. While the adventure and plan to walk had been Jasper’s idea, the whole reason they’d finally decided to do it was because they trusted Phil and his skills not to get them lost.

As his tongue flicked out across the sore, puffy split lip that had stopped bleeding a while ago, Phil heaved a heavy sigh. He had no idea where they were. By following the river and sticking to the field access grass paths, they had yet to come across even so much as a gravel road let alone a main one. They weren’t lost, though. Phil refused to believe they were lost.

When it felt like the sun was hitting their backs more than their left sides, Phil motioned for them to start pulling away from the river and cut through open fields. So long as they kept the sun on their sides, he knew they were heading west and they’d come across a farm, or road, or town eventually. It would work, at least until midday when the sun was directly overhead. Even then though, he’d just make sure they didn’t make any turns and they’d be fine. They would. They had to be.

At least Clint had stayed by his side, coming between him and Jasper when Jasper had tried to lunge at him a second time after getting pulled apart. Clint had defended him, reminding them that Phil hadn’t even really wanted to go on their damned fool search for a kid that either didn’t want to be found or was long gone. That, thankfully, had been enough to get Jasper to back off and even to look a little apologetic.

It was, in fact, Clint who saw the truck first down a dirt access road to the south. With nothing left to lose, they started for it, hoping they could find a person who could help them get back to where they needed to be, or maybe give them some food and water. Phil didn’t want to think that with their luck it was an abandoned, broken down thing that had been left to die like the Bug back home.

Old and rusted, the pickup had definitely seen better days. Still, the tires were glaringly new and the tracks left in the dirt behind it seemed fresh enough that it was obvious the truck hadn’t been sitting there for all that very long. The keys dangled from the ignition and for a brief moment the idea of lifting the truck crossed Phil’s mind. But then, he’d rather not have an auto theft charge following him around for the rest of his life.

“Yo.” Nick’s voice broke the silence that had settled among them over the past few hours. Heads snapping up in his direction, they moved to gather around him, staring in the window at where he was pointing.

“That’s a letterman jacket.”

Clint nudged Jasper out of the way as he opened the door and pulled the jacket out. The jacket was black wool with yellow leather sleeves and baseball patches down the left arm.Above the baseballs, a _'94_ patch stood out in white and yellow, a matching _#44_ on the opposite sleeve. The back held the words _Central Lee_ and team name embroidered in yellow, _Baseball_ stitched under it. On the front, a large _CL_ patch was sewn on the left breast, _Steve_ in yellow script across the right.

Eyes wide, Jasper, Nick, and Phil all shared disbelieving grins and playful shoves, so clearly pleased with themselves that things seemed to be turning out alright after all. Until Clint lifted the right sleeve.

“Uh, guys?”

Blood stained down the sleeve, discolored and dried against the bright leather. Dread settled in the pit of Phil’s stomach as he reached out to carefully grip the fabric cuff and hold it up to get a better look at it. Beside him, Jasper paled and stumbled back, trying to put as much distance between him and the bloody sleeve as possible.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head, “Jesus, he’s dead! Steve’s dead!”

Nick’s hand flew out, smacking Jasper upside the head, a scowl digging deep across his face. “Man, shut up! You don’t know that!”

Looking around, Phil quickly scanned the area while Clint tossed the jacket back onto the seat and slammed the door. The truck was out in the middle of nowhere, so if Steve _was_ dead, then whoever had done it had obviously brought his body out far enough so no one would find him. Just where? Steve wasn’t a small guy anymore; puberty and getting active in baseball had helped him build up the muscles and height he had so desperately needed his whole life, so there wasn’t a doubt in Phil’s mind that he wouldn’t have been easy to carry very far. Which meant dragging would have been the best option, so there should have been--

“Phil, look. Footprints.” Clint gently swatted his arm, drawing him out of his thoughts and turning his attention to the two sets of prints in the dirt heading towards a field and disappearing into the sprouts of soybeans.

Glancing up, Phil saw the cluster of trees and nodded. “C’mon, they went this way.”

Throwing caution to the wind, they tore off at a sprint through the field, heading straight for the trees and not knowing what they would find. Not knowing what they would do if they came face to face with Steve’s kidnapper. Dirt turned to grass and weeds, the teens having to jump fallen limbs and trunks of trees before they finally heard it -- the pleading and desperate voice of their school’s star baseball player.

“Please! Oh God...please! I can’t...I can’t... _Ohhhhhhhh!_ ”

Four pairs of eyes grew as large as saucers, their jaws practically dropping through the ground below their feet.

“He’s _alive!_ ” Jasper whispered frantically. “He’s alive, and they’re _killing him!_ ”

Clint swung his backpack off his shoulders and dropped to his knees. He tore it open, his hand disappearing inside before popping back out, a Smith & Wesson pistol clutched firmly in his grasp. In a flash, he was back on his feet and hopping over the toppled sycamore in front of them.

Too dumbfounded to stop him, the others had no choice but to chase after him in search of where the pleading was coming from. Just ahead of them, a clearing by a small pond came into view, Steve’s voice getting louder and louder as they got closer. It wasn’t until they burst through the trees and tumbled into Clint’s suddenly frozen form that they realized just how very, very wrong they’d been.

Steve was still alive, yes, but he was definitely _not_ pleading for his life.

Laid out on a blanket alongside the water, the midday sunlight pouring down on him and haloing him in white, Steve gasped as he clutched at the grass above his head. A dark haired teen was braced above him on his elbows, head bent down as the muscles of his back flexed and strained. Both of them were just as naked as the day they were born, with Steve’s legs wrapped tightly around the other’s waist, and they were quite enthusiastically making love and oblivious to the world around them.

Or, they would be, anyway, if Jasper hadn’t suddenly let out a startled and disbelieving, “ _Holy SHIT!_ ”

Phil swore under his breath as he grabbed Jasper’s arm, yanking him backwards and covering his mouth. The four scrambled backwards, frantic to get back to the trees as Steve and his lover broke apart. Shouted apologies and new, inventive insults towards Jasper rushed from their mouths, silenced by a shrill whistle piercing the air. They froze, backs to the others and eyes straight ahead of them, quietly muttering.

“We’re sorry, Steve,” Clint finally called over his shoulder, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“Friends of yours, Stevie?” The stranger’s voice was a bit rough, but not unpleasant. If anything, he sounded fairly amused.

It was a moment later when Steve finally answered. “They go to school with me, not exactly the same thing. You guys can turn around.”

Glancing between themselves, they slowly turned, their eyes downcast just in case. It was Phil who finally dared to look up and gave a nudge that it was safe to lift their heads again. Steve stood shirtless next to the brunet, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and Phil had to swallow his tongue to keep from having it fall out of his mouth. Everything about Steve screamed All-American, boy next door, hometown hero and everyone’s sweetheart. The man next to him was a little darker, a bit of a bad boy air to him, even though the smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth was boyish and bright and made his piercing blue eyes sparkle.

They were gorgeous together, and Phil felt a deep pang of jealousy clench tight in the pit of his stomach.

“Fellas,” Steve nodded, obviously waiting for an explanation. When none came, he rolled his eyes and dropped his arms. “Bucky Barnes, guys from my class. Nick Fury, Jasper Sitwell, Phil Coulson, and you might remember Clint Barton. Guys, Bucky.”

Bucky’s grin grew more when his gaze fell on Clint, recognition obviously there and clearly pleased by the way Clint’s jaw hit the ground for the second time.

“Shit! _Bucky_? No way!” Clint shot the others a look before waving his hand towards Steve and Bucky, forgetting for a moment the gun he was still holding. “We all went--”

“--Jesus Christ, Barton! Don’t wave that thing around! It’s not a fuckin’ pea shooter!” Bucky was on him in an instant, wrangling the pistol from his grip and expertly dropping the magazine out the bottom of the handle, sliding his palm across the top to empty the chamber.

“The hell you get this thing, anyway?”

Pink rose up on Clint’s cheeks as he ducked his head. “Swiped it from my dad in case we needed it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but tucked the empty gun in his waistband, not at all willing to give it back. When it became clear he was keeping it, at least for the time being, Clint lifted his head again and cleared his throat.

“Me, Buck, and Steve were in the same class together. From preschool to fifth grade. He moved out the same week you moved in.” He nodded at Phil before looking back at his childhood friends. “Always knew you two were close, but this…”

The light vanished from Bucky’s eyes as his shoulders straightened and his face turned to stone. “ ‘This’ _what_?”

His mouth open and ready to answer, Clint snapped it shut when Steve finally pinned them with his infamous disappointed glare. They each shifted uncomfortably under that look, glancing between themselves once more, uncertain what to do or say.

“What are you guys doing here? How’d you even find me?”

Like a switch being flipped, all four lifted their heads, all talking over each other to explain.

“You’ve been gone for two weeks, you jackass--”

“--everyone’s been looking for you--”

“--yeah! They’re dragging the bottom of the Mississippi even and--”

“--everybody’s been really worried about you! Then Phil said--”

“--I remembered hearing you talk about your friend that moved to Missouri so I brought it up when Jaz mentioned a truck with Missouri plates--”

“We came looking for you! And we found you! We’re gonna be fuckin’ heroes!” Jasper pumped his fist into the air, his grin practically splitting his face in half.

Steve stared at them for a long, silent moment. No one spoke in that time, they just let the gentle breeze whisper through the trees. When his posture did finally relax, it was as if he was suddenly deflating. He looked like a shell of the strong young man he’d become.

His eyes turned to Bucky, who was staring at him already, a brown brow arched and weight settled on one foot. Everything about Bucky seemed to be saying ‘I told you so!’ even while the words were never actually spoken. The pair seemed to share a wordless conversation consisting entirely of looks and facial expressions before Steve finally jerked and turned away.

“You gotta go back, Steve,” Bucky finally spoke, breaking the silence. “I told you people were going to be looking. You’ve put your grandparents through enough. You need to go home.”

When Steve turned back to face them, tears shone in his eyes, dampening his long dark lashes. He looked so torn and defeated, it was hard not to reach out and offer him comfort. It was the words that came out of his mouth, though, that really felt like a punch to the gut for Phil.

“They’re shipping me to a military academy, Buck! Because I’m _gay_!”

“ _No_ , they’re sending you to a military academy because they want what’s best for you, and because that place is offering you a full ride. You fuck this up, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.” Shaking his head, Bucky moved to put his hands on Steve’s shoulders. One hand tucked under his chin, lifting his head so their eyes met again. “I’m still gonna be here, Steve. You’re not gonna lose me. You’re gonna go to college and you’re gonna do your stint in the military, keep your head down and get your ass back home to me as soon as you get out. And I’m still gonna be here. Got me? I’m with ya til the end of the line, pal.”

Steve gulped hard and nodded, his eyes shut tight as the tears rolled silently down his cheeks. Their heads tipped towards each others until they touched and Bucky could bring his hand around to clasp his neck. It was a beautifully touching moment, one that had Jasper and Nick shifting and looking away uncomfortably. Phil couldn’t look away, not with the way his stomach was flip-flopping. He and Clint had had their fair share of touches like that through their years and seeing it now, between two people who obviously loved each other deeply, it made him start to wonder if maybe there could be something there between him and Clint. If all that gentleness that only he’d been allowed to see went deeper.

He did look away, finally, and when he did it was to catch Clint quickly look straight down, the most peculiar blush tinting his neck and ears. It made his heart stutter.

Looking back up again, Phil watched Bucky pull back from a gentle kiss and Steve give a small nod, turning to go pick the blanket and shirts up off the ground. When Bucky turned back to them, clearing his throat to get their attention, he sighed heavily.

“You guys stink like fish water. C’mon. You can come back to my Aunt’s place with us and get cleaned up, grab a bite, and I’ll give ya’s a lift back to Montrose when I take Steve home.”

With muttered thanks, Phil and Jasper took a few steps away from each other to let the other two through.

“But you’re all four riding in the back. You seriously reek.”

~*~*~*~*~

The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon when Bucky pulled his beat up old Chevy up alongside the rusted out VW Bug. Steve was the only one who didn’t live in town and Bucky had already said, “I’m not a fucking taxi service. Unless your name’s Steve, nobody gets dropped at their door. Deal with it.”

Backpacks slung over their shoulders and clothes washed, courtesy of Mrs. Barnes, the four hopped out of the back of the truck and waved as it drove off. They stood there for a few quiet moments, soaking in the gentle warmth and knowledge that everything had turned out alright after all. Steve would go home to his grandparents and work things out with them. And the four of them? They’d go back to school the next day with one hell of a story to tell about how they’d been the ones to find Steve and help convince him to come home.

Sighing softly, Jasper kicked at a stone and shrugged. “Well...I guess I should be getting home.”

“Yo, man, what are you gonna tell your kid brother about his Talkboy?” Nick looked down over the top of his sunglasses at Jasper, smirking when he groaned and hid his face in his hands.

“God, I’m so fucking dead. That thing is so ruined. I shoulda let it sink to the bottom of the river...I just...I should totally charge you for that damn thing, Coulson.”

Huffing a laugh, Phil nodded, a half smile playing on his face. “Sure, bill me, man. I’ll have my accountant take care of it.”

Jasper rolled his eyes and shook his head in defeat. He would have to come up with some way to replace it and make it up to his brother without his parents finding out what had really happened to it. Beside him, Nick patted his shoulder and gave a friendly shove.

“C’mon, man, I gotta get home before my mom sends a search party out after me.”

Casting a wave to them both, Phil and Clint watched as they started off in the same direction only to part ways at the intersection. When they were out of sight, Clint nudged into Phil’s side, giving a small nod that it was time for them to get walking too.

“So...Steve’s gay, huh? Pretty crazy.”

Phil pressed his lips together with a nod and shrug. “Yeah, totally crazy.”

Clint stayed quiet for a few more steps before opening his mouth again. “Think things are actually gonna work out for ‘em? I mean, bein’ gay around here is pretty risky, ya know? Think anyone’s gonna give him shit for it?”

“I dunno,” Phil turned his head to look at Clint in the fading light, the world turning a dusty blue-purple. “I think it might work for ‘em. Never know, maybe someday might even be legal for two guys to get married.”

That earned him a snort of laughter and a floppy-haired head shake. Leaning his head back, Clint stared up at the sky for a moment as they walked. “Sure, Phil. Cuz that’ll be the day down here in Hicksville.”

“Hey, that’s what everyone said about segregation and about interracial marriage. We’ve got two friends who are proof that times change and so does social acceptance. It’s possible. Someday, it could happen.”

“Well.” Clint drew to a stop at the corner and sighed. Phil would keep going straight to the end of the dead end street, and Clint would turn to start down the alley to the next street over. Standing on that corner, though, they just watched each other until the mercury light above them flickered and hummed to life.

“I hope for Steve’s sake you’re right.”

Phil swallowed hard, nodding dumbly. Licking his lips, he watched as Clint’s eyes darted down, following the motion of his tongue, and suddenly the cool of the night was far too hot. Voice soft and just a little bit wrecked, he took a deep breath. “Yeah. Maybe...not just for his sake, though.”

Clint’s eyes shot back up to meet his, blown wide and dark in the pale light. “Yeah...maybe not just for his sake…”

Coughing and looking away suddenly, Clint shook his head and spun on his heels, a bright smile in place when he turned back to Phil. It was a look that Phil knew, just _knew_ meant he was about to be on the receiving end of some over the top rendition of whatever song popped into Clint’s head at that moment.

“Hey, Coulson!”

Groaning inwardly, Phil bit back a smile and laugh before he could call back, “Hey, what?”

“ _When you’re standin’ at the cross roads,_  
 _Don’t know which path to choose_  
 _Lemme come along_  
 _‘Cause even if you’re wrong_  
 _I’ll stand by you”_

The laughter he’d been trying so hard to keep in burst out of him at that. Tears of laughter prickled up in his eyes as he stooped to pick a rock up off the ground and chuck it at Clint, watching it sail over him as he as he doubled over, cackling hysterically.

“God! You’re such a fucking homo, ya know that?”

Still laughing, Clint spun back around before darting off down the alley, backpack bouncing from side to side. “Takes one to know one!”

The words faded through the air along with the rest of the evening light. Heart thumping wildly in his chest, and a goofy grin in place, Phil turned the corner that would lead him home, not knowing that the two day adventure would be the last time the four of them would spend more than five minutes together.

~*~*~*~*~

  
A chance phone call from Phil’s mom to Jasper’s had given them all away when it was revealed they’d lied about where they’d been and earned them each, at the absolute minimum, a summer long grounding -- the last groundings of their lives before adulthood began. Even so, in the very few minutes they saw each other those last days of school, they all admitted it was well worth it. None of them blamed anyone for anything. It had been one hell of a trip, after all.

~*~*~*~*~

Graduation came two weeks later, and it was a flurry of celebrations and preparations for life after high school. Phil’s mom had managed to wrangle the four of them together one last time in order for a picture. Jasper with his dark hair blow dried back and moussed down, grinning from ear to ear as he stood at the end of the line up in his ill-fitting grey suit, his arm thrown over Nick’s shoulder. Nick’s head was turned and his mouth was open in a laugh at Jasper, his sunglasses hanging from the pocket of his electric blue, vertically-striped dress shirt -- untucked and hanging loose over his white slacks. Beside him Clint hung his arms over Nick and Phil, leaning forward and about to topple over, but looking as if he’d just won a million dollars. His bright purple dress shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, tucked into baggy black slacks, and dark purple tie hanging undone around his neck, his straight blond hair cut long enough to brush the tips of his ears and just barely parted out of his eyes. Phil stood on his other side, one arm around Clint’s waist, the other with his hand pressing on Clint’s chest in an attempt to keep them both from falling over. His own dark hair was cut shorter but still just brushing the back collar of his red button down.

It was a moment forever captured on film, and one that would have a permanent place in a frame on Phil’s dresser, next to the picture of him and his dad. And one day in the not too distant future, joined by a wedding photo of his mom and Alan.

With the school year over, the friends found themselves parting ways.

Jasper went off to culinary school, then made his way to Los Angeles. He opened his own restaurant there, specializing in unique seafood dishes. Eventually, he had a string of franchises down the SoCal coast which he ran alongside his gorgeous wife. He called the restaurant _River Jumpers_.

Following in the footsteps of so many others desperate to get out of Montrose, Nick Fury joined the military just two weeks after graduation. He worked his way up through the ranks, eventually serving with Steve for a couple of years before finally being recruited by one of the Alphabet Agencies and settling down in Washington, D.C. The loss of his left eye caused him to have to leave the field, though it did earn him a higher ranking position, which he came to like better anyway.

Clint and Phil were the last two remaining in Montrose. They remained thick as thieves all through their time together at the Southeastern Community College in Keokuk where they both received Associate degrees before moving on to four year universities. Phil went for Geography with an emphasis in cartography, while Clint studied Criminal Justice. He went on to join the Keokuk Police Department just after graduating.

Clint was shot his third week on the job after pulling a car over for speeding. The driver had just robbed a gas station in Alexandria, Missouri -- a small town not even two miles south and east of where the four friends had frantically pulled leeches off each other on the sand bank -- and was heading North up the highway when he’d been pulled over. He fled the scene. He was never caught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder folks...and as a minor spoiler for the next chapter. Please keep in mind, there's a reason this isn't tagged for character death.


	5. Chapter 5

_June, 2014_

Jasper shoved his hand hard into Phil’s shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. Blinking quickly, he looked between the two before frowning; his drink had once again sloshed over the edge of his glass and onto the floor. Shooting a glare at him, Phil turned to set the glass down and pluck a small napkin off the stack next to him, doing what he could to wipe the spiked punch off his hand and suit. 

“What? Jeeze! That’s the second time you’ve made me spill this dang thing!”

“ _Jeeze?_ ” Jasper’s eyes widened and a laugh exploded out of him. “ _Dang_? Shit, Phil! You act like you’re some PTA-going soccer dad or something now! I asked you what you’ve been up to since high school. You were totally spacing out on us.”

Smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth, Phil looked up from where he was wiping down his pant leg. 

“I’m a PTA-going soccer dad,” he answered honestly, watching as Jasper’s jaw dropped and Nick hid his snort of laughter behind a cough. Straightening, he tossed the napkin to the table and picked his drink up again, downing it in two gulps before it could be spilled any further. 

Setting the empty cup down, he pulled his wallet from his pocket and opened it to a picture of three kids sitting on a front porch swing; a little girl with brown hair and freckles, bright blue eyes shining out from under dark lashes, and two little boys cuddled in against her.The boys had identical blue eyes and smiles, floppy blond hair falling down in front of their faces. 

“Madaline.” He pointed to the girl. “She's nine. The one on the left is Steven, and the one on the right is James. They're five.”

Still smirking, Phil put the wallet back in his pocket before grabbing a cookie off his plate. “When I’m not that, though, I’m a cartographer and an adjunct Geography professor at SCC.”

Jasper stared blankly for a moment, jaw still slack before clicking shut and a look of confusion crossed his face. “What’s a cartographer do? I don’t--”

“Means the damn fool makes fucking _maps_ for a living. Jesus Christ,” Nick huffed and rolled his head back as he turned to grab a drink of his own. The cup was empty after two gulps. 

“Oh, you are one sick...Damn you, Phil. Damn you and your fucking maps.”

Phil laughed loud and bright at that, grinning like a fool as he popped the rest of his cookie in his mouth and shrugged. 

When Jasper finally got done swearing, colorfully and bilingually, he turned his narrowed gaze back at Phil and frowned. “Alright, so what the fuck ever happened to Clint? You two were always attached at the hip, so what the hell?”

Wiping his hands on a new napkin, Phil softly cleared his throat. “Clint became a cop. Three weeks in with Keokuk PD he got shot by some panicky jackass during a traffic stop. He--”

“Phil!?”

Phil quickly turned his head, his face scrunching in confusion before smoothing out into a happy smile. He held his hand up in a wave, motioning the caller over. “Clint! Over here!” 

A moment later, Clint’s head poked through the crowd as he slipped between people to get to the other three. His hair had darkened over the years, going from blond to medium brown, and it no longer hung loose and shaggy, instead cut short and respectable -- the short tufts of bangs styled up and held in place with spray. He was still gorgeous, even twenty years later, and with his permanent limp -- he moved easily with the aid of a cane, black with flames rising up from the bottom. 

Sliding up beside Phil, Clint slipped his arm around his waist and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. At Phil’s hip, the fingers of their left hands entwined, their matching titanium wedding bands reflecting the party lights. Pulling back, he grinned and shifted to put most of his weight against Phil and off the leg he’d been shot in. 

“Sorry, didn’t know if I’d make it or not. James whacked himself in face with a hammer he found. He’s fine though, finally, couple stitches in his lip, but Mom took him and I managed to slip away unnoticed, and I’m here finally so...Holy Shit! Jasper! Nick!”

Phil laughed as he pressed another kiss to the spot just above Clint’s ear, while Clint said his hellos. 

“You fuckers are married,” Nick scoffed and shook his head, grabbing another drink to down quickly. “Fuck, Phil made it sound like you were dead.”

“What?” Phil looked back at Nick, adamantly shaking his head. “I did not. I didn’t think he’d be here because of work and our apparent last minute family emergency so when you asked, I shook my head. You asked what happened to him, I said he got shot. I never said he’d been shot _and killed_.”

“Yeah, well,” Jasper made a face and reached to grab a drink off the table. “Still.”

Clint looked between the three in amused confusion before a shrug and head shake and turning his prismatic eyes back to Phil. “So, what’d I miss?”

Arms slipping around to envelop him in a gentle hug, Phil smiled, chuckling softly. 

“Nothin’ much. Just talkin’ ‘bout old times and our grand adventure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already had one person ask me about this, so in case anyone else is wondering, there are a couple of bits that I tried to work into the ending but it never really felt right, so they became kind of "deleted scenes" I guess you could say. One being what happened to Steve and Bucky; the other what Clint does now since he can't be a cop anymore.
> 
> So, what happened to Bucky and Steve: Steve went on to graduate with honors from the Virginia Military Institute and served for twelve years in the Army. Longer than he'd planned on, but when they offered him a commissioned officer position after graduation, he couldn't turn it down. He would go home every chance he could, spend every waking moment with Bucky before heading out again. When he got out in 2006, the paired moved to California and two years later were one of the first couples in line to get married when it became legal there. Shortly after same-sex marriages became legal in New York, they moved there, where Steve currently teaches art at an academy for children gifted in the arts, and coaches baseball during the summer. He and Bucky live very happily together in their beautiful Brownstone home in Brooklyn.
> 
> Clint became basically a stay at home dad (also, the three kids are biologically theirs, just Madaline is Phil's biological daughter, and the boys are Clint's. Clint was extremely pleased with himself when they found out their surrogate was having twins). On top of that, he also runs an after school out reach program for kids from 6th to 12th grade to help keep the teens off the streets and out of trouble.


End file.
